The Death Of You And Me
by Onyxroses
Summary: Clara Gray is forced to move to the murder house by her parents after a tragedy. The day of her arrival she sees a mysterious boy standing in her window.
1. A Change Of Scenery

The house stood tauntingly staring down at Clara with it's stained glass eyes. Her thoughts roamed over what sat inside. She hadn't been in the new house just yet. Her father Matthew struggled to lift the overweight suitcase his wife had packed from the car beside her.

"Clara, you can go on inside." Matthew called with a strained breath as he lifted the hefty suitcase. Clara nodded slowly before walking sluggishly to the front door. Her pale hand fell onto the door handle without caution or regard.

The house's beautiful architecture was seen in every room, even more so in the foyer. Clara's eyes met the staircase almost instantly. She stepped up onto the first step with slow precision. She hadn't lived anywhere except the condo, therefore the stairs were going to be something she'd have to grow used to.

Matthew and Annie found this particular home after they found out she was pregnant. Enough room to extend the family and live comfortably. They also moved from Georgia because they were looking for a change of scenery and what a change this was.

A smile tugged at the corners of Clara's mouth as she reached the bedroom that she assumed to be hers. She looked at the boxes that were stacked against the moron colored walls, and her bed that had already been set up in the middle of the room. Clara closed the door to the room and walked to the window that looked over the backyard, the gazebo that sat in a awkward place of the yard drew her attention.

Clara's eyes locked onto the gazebo. She thought that it would be a great place to sit and write. Her hazel eyes sparkled in the dying light of the midday sun. Her wavy light brown hair hung down past her shoulders. Her pale skin held not a single flaw except the small scar on her neck.

* * *

><p>Annie sat in the kitchen holding a tightlipped smile as Moira smiled back at her. Moira had all but demanded that Annie hire her as the maid. Annie had never needed a maid before, but she also had never lived in such a big house, so being backed into a corner she agreed.<p>

"We'll be happy to have you, Moira." Annie brightened her smile as she lifted from her chair.

"I'll start tomorrow, Mrs. Gray." Annie had already insisted that Moira call her by her first name, but it seemed to be useless. Moira gave another weak smile before she left her standing in the kitchen alone.

* * *

><p>Clara found herself sitting in the gazebo. She paced around the circumference of it tracing her thin fingers along the treated wood. Her eyes searched for nothing particular as she let them fall on the house as she stood in the opening of the gazebo. But as she gazed into her window she saw a young man.<p>

His face alabaster, his eyes dark, his hair blonde. He looked stricken with remorse and undoubtedly miserable. Clara stood there staring up at him without so much as a breath. Both of them didn't move an inch for all of two minutes. Just before Clara was about to force herself to do something the young man walked away from the window.

Clara ran through the yard and into the kitchen. She caught the stair rail and pulled herself up the stairs. When she reached her room she busted through the closed door to find one of her boxes open and her stuff neatly placed atop the dresser. Her body went rigid with fear, and excitement.

Clara looked over the things that had mysteriously ended up on the dresser. Two photos that she had taken for art class, her great-grandmothers jewelry box full of her old necklaces and earrings that Clara only gazed at from time to time since she never wore jewelry. Her leather bound journal with all of her poems and short stories, opened to the short story she had written of the girl who had been betrayed by her true love, a story that came from her not so distant past.

Clara felt embarrassed, she had never intended for anyone to read that. Her eyes darted around her room with panic. After she realized she was alone she slammed the journal shut and started to unpack her room.

She wanted to know who he was, and where the hell he went. But the day passed quickly and she hadn't caught a single sight of him since that afternoon. But, his pale image lay burned in her brain. When she closed her eyes she saw him, the sad, beautiful boy.

* * *

><p>Matthew placed a plate on the table in the dinning room, then another, and as he placed the last he smiled. This was nice, he could work from home, with his own office. His growing family was safe and sound and he was happy. He hadn't been for the longest time, just because there was no room for happiness in his life, up until now.<p>

Annie slipped her thin fingers around Matthew's shoulders. She squeezed until she heard the groan of comfort from her husband. Matthew turned to her with a wide grin still staining his face.

"Have you seen Clara?" Annie asked him. There was a tone of concern in her voice that automatically brought Matthew's grin to a small smile.

"Not since this morning, maybe she's unpacking." Matthew slid past Annie's large stomach to walk into the kitchen. He placed his hands on the cold granite counter.

"Do you think she likes the house?" Annie persisted with her worries. Matthew rubbed his face with his right hand, feeling the prickle of his stubble covered chin.

"Well, why don't you ask her? But, regardless I know she'll want to be back in Georgia." He sighed. There was a good reason they moved all the way to Los Angeles, and that reason was a very serious one.

Annie let out a long sigh before she found her way to the staircase. She stepped up slowly holding onto the rail with care. As she came upon Clara's closed door she gave it a small tap.

A few seconds passed before Clara opened the door with the look of fear on her white face. "What is it?" Clara murmured.

"Family dinner, to celebrate, is something the matter?" Annie asked her very secretive daughter. Clara shook her head quickly, as she had always done. Even when her world was spinning to the ground she refused to tell her own mother about it.

Clara slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her. She followed her mother down the stairs taking her free hand to help her down the stairs. The dinning room was fairly large and right off the kitchen. Matthew was placing the meal in the middle of the table when the women walked in.

Matthew pulled out two chairs and awaited each lady to sit, then he pushed them in. Clara watched the candle in the middle of the table with great concentration. Matthew sat down and looked from each person in front of him.

"So Clara, your thoughts on the house?" He mused at his daughter. He was a reasonable father, not to suffocating, but vigilant of her actions.

"I think it's to big." Was her initial and almost automatic response. Matthew smiled at the obvious rebellion she possessed.

"Well, that's something we'll all adjust to over time." He said with a small nod. Clara sneered in response.

"Why can't we live in Georgia?" Clara questioned in a low tone. Annie looked up from her plate in utter shock.

"Have you already forgotten, it's been what, two months?" Annie held her eyes with Matthew for a long moment after she asked Clara the question.

"Long enough for the scar to heal? And what you want to go back to that life, to him?" Annie was in tears that spilled before she even finished speaking. She rose from her chair with a quick motion and left the room without another look at Clara.

"Why would you do this to your mother?" Matthew muttered as he slowly rose from his chair. Clara scoffed at the air in front of her before she laid her burning eyes on her father.

"I don't want to go back to him, I just want to be home." She growled with a bloodcurdling glare burning holes into her father's face.

Matthew sighed rubbing his face once more while he turned from Clara. "This is your home." Matthew said just before he walked out of the door. Clara let her face fall into her right hand as she traced the risen piece of skin on her neck with the left. The scar that was given to her by someone she thought she loved.

Clara slumped up the stairs wrapping her fingers in the hem of her shirt all the while with frustration. As she opened her door she found herself staring at the last box in the room. The one that she just couldn't leave behind, the one that she couldn't bare to open. Clara carried it to the closet and sat it inside with a last glance to the vans sticker on the top.

After a long shower and a change of clothes Clara was in her bed looking out of the window in which she had seen the boy. As she closed her eyes she saw him, his face stood out in the blackness as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p>Matthew sat in the chair in his office going over everything he had written that night. Two pages of complete and utter roundabout words and nothing more. He let out a long sigh before he drew back in his seat. He was foolish to think that everything that had happened would just vanish with the move. He needed to find a therapist for his daughter and he needed to help the problem instead of avoiding it.<p>

* * *

><p>Annie rolled over on the bed, rubbing her large stomach gently. She knew that this time around, raising a child, she'd do it right. She loved Clara more than anything, but somewhere deep inside she was still blaming herself for everything that had happened.<p> 


	2. In All Reality

Clara slept silently. Her white face was half exposed in the moonlight that pushed itself in the window. Clara's hands were clutching the blanket beside her face with a deathly grip. The room around her was completely black except for the small pool of light that cascaded in from the window. In that darkness a young man stood staring cautiously down at Clara while she slept.

* * *

><p><em>The knife Aiden was twisting over and over again in his right hand had a twinkle about it. Clara could almost hear the silver ting as the moonlight hit the blade, just above the loud sound of her heartbeat in her ears.<em>

* * *

><p>Her dream was almost like a being right back there, for the few seconds that it felt like, it was already morning when she jerked awake in a cold sweat. She pulled her hair out of her face and took a deep breath. She had nightmares almost every time she thought of Aiden. He was troubled, about as much as she was. She put the thought of him away and walked to the closet grabbing the box that she had hidden from sight.<p>

As she stomped towards the stairs she caught a glimpse of red hair. An older woman, in a maids outfit. Matthew was standing in front of her talking to her with anything but a low tone.

"Moira, do you know of any good therapists? Preferably one that could make house calls. I know you most be familiar with the area." Matthew asked Moira as Clara walked past them. With a quick jerk she turned to them.

"Why yes, Mr. Gray. Ben Harmon, we're old friends in fact." Moira smirked. Clara saw the older woman give a modest smile, while Matthew saw the young attractive woman give a smirk that showed off her full lips and beautifully white teeth.

Clara met her father's eyes just before she realized she couldn't let him catch a glance at what she was holding. Clara let the boiling anger go. She was about to scream bloody murder at her father for even suggesting a therapist, she wasn't crazy.

Clara skittered to the hallway off her right, and out the kitchen door into the back yard. She walked around the house and stopped at the trashcans next to the driveway. She looked at the box one more time, trying to push down the distraught pleading voice that begged her to keep it.

The voice availed and Clara found herself right back in her room sitting in the middle of the floor with the box between her legs. Clara's thin pale fingers slid across the opening of the box slowly. As she opened it she could feel the emotions run wild through her.

There sat a picture, the first thing in the box. Aiden and Clara sitting side by side of the hood of Aiden's mustang. Clara's face almost entirely hidden behind her bangs and Costello sunglasses. Aiden's white face handsome and flawless, his bright smile making his gray irises twinkle in a way that made him look like the most innocent thing in the world.

Clara placed a hand over her mouth trying to keep herself from touching the photo. A single tear slid down her left cheek falling onto her hand making her cold flesh tingle under the warmth of the droplet. She closed the box and pushed it to the far wall. Clara laid back on the floor folding her arms across her chest as if she were dead. She stared up at the ceiling with a scowl. Clara hated this house, she hated this life, and she hated herself.

* * *

><p>"How will I get in touch with Mr. Harmon?" Matthew asked Moira while she dusted the bookcase in his office lifting up ever so slightly to reveal her black lace panties. Matthew struggled to keep his eyes strictly on the bookcase, no wandering.<p>

"I'll talk to him for you Matt, can I call you Matt?" Moira was in front of him all of a sudden batting her thick lashes. Matthew nodded to answer her question as he backed up a few feet.

"Well, when is the soonest appointment you think he could make?" Matthew questioned on impulse not thinking clearly after being hit with the strong sweet smell of her perfume.

"I'm sure he could make it this afternoon if you'd like him to." Moira purred stepping closer to where Matthew stood. Moira stopped a few inches from him, giving him a daunting smirk, as her hand fell to the front of her skirt. Matthew jerked his eyes from her at once.

"Of course, that would be great." Matthew said nervously as he moved past Moira trying his best to avoid making any contact whatsoever.

* * *

><p>Annie sat in the kitchen looking carelessly down at her lunch. She wanted something, but wasn't sure exactly what, since it had been seventeen years since she was last pregnant she forgot how hard the last month was. With the back pain, and the off the wall intense cravings.<p>

She got to her feet and walked into the foyer where her husband stood talking to a man she had never seen before. His short black hair was neat and his chin was covered with stubble just the same as Matthew's. He wore a black leather jacket, a blue shirt under it, and jeans. He was quite handsome. Annie was set wondering who he might be.

"Mr. Harmon this is my wife, Annie." Matthew said gesturing to her with a proud smile. Ben nodded and held out his hand to the woman, Annie took it gingerly feeling his abnormally cool skin.

"Annie, this is Mr. Harmon, he's a therapist." Matthew said looking down at Annie with a significant nod. Annie automatically knew that he was here for Clara, and she approved completely. She thought Clara would need some therapy after what she had went through, and now was as good a time as any.

"Please call me Ben." He said with a charismatic smile. The couple nodded and they all walked to the small sitting room off to the right.

* * *

><p>Clara still lay on the floor scowling at the ceiling above her. There was a short knock on her door. After a few seconds Clara sat up pulling the box into her grasp and dropping it in her closet. As she walked to the door another knock sounded from the door.<p>

Clara opened the door with a swift jerk ready to curse whoever stood there's existence. But, when her eyes landed on the man that stood before her she swallowed her words.

"You must be Clara." He said with a low tone. Clara nodded slowly looking over his stature with a single sweep of her eyes. He looked nothing like a therapist, but she assumed him to be Ben Harmon.

"You must be Ben." She smirked with a bitter, sarcastic tone. Ben let his smile fall a little and he nodded shortly.

"Are you going to invite me in so we can talk?" Ben asked with an expectant grin. Clara folded her arms over her chest and sifted her weight to her right leg.

"Are you a vampire?" Clara asked cocking a brow at him. Clara moved back a little to allow access to her room. Ben moved past her with a soft chuckle. Clara closed the door and moved swiftly across her room to plop down on the foot of her bed. Ben sat in the living chair next to her window giving a glance at the lovely view of the gazebo.

"Before we start is there anything you'd like to clarify, or maybe ask some questions?" Ben spoke like a policeman before an interrogation.

"I'd like to clarify that I'm not fucking crazy, nor am I in any need whatsoever of a therapist." She sneered over at him. Ben kept his face unreadable, as any good shrink would.

"Clara your parents tell me that your ex-boyfriend attempted to kill you and himself." He stated, leaving the floor open for Clara to accept or deny his allegations. Clara smirked at her tightly balled fist before locking eyes with Ben.

"I don't really remember it that way, but they suppose they know everything, even though they weren't even there when it happened. He-" Clara cut herself off choking the next words in her windpipe, refusing to let them spill.

"How do you remember it, exactly?" Ben probed with an odd look about him. Clara took her eyes away from his immediately. She had hoped to keep her composure, to come off as a completely sane teenage girl that had a spat with her boyfriend, that was taken way out of proportion.

That's how she wanted it to be. In all reality she hated what had happened, it made her feel vulnerable and weak. She wanted to come off as fine and unscarred on the inside, as if she didn't have nightmares that shook her to her core or feared leaving the house, or made her feel like life was useless now, that she should've died right there in the woods, holding onto him.

Everything dawned on her at once, she was thinking of it all for the first time since that night. The brick wall of bitter denial came tumbling down in all of two seconds. As she examined herself from afar, she decided that she might actually need therapy.

She found herself looking back at Ben's taunting stare. He knew it before she did, somehow. Clara shifted uncomfortably where she sat, the weight of his stare was heavy and burning holes into her white face.

"That day, I had told him that we were going to move, because of the baby." Clara spoke slowly keeping her eyes on her fingernails, they were broken and jagged, she couldn't remember the last time she had filed them down.

After a long silence Ben spoke up. "You can continue, and if it's to hard for you, just tell me." Ben's voice was soothing now. Clara sat up a little feeling the urge to spill her guts for the world to see, well, for Ben to see.

"At first he asked where to." Clara chuckled at the memory, the calm before the storm. "And, I told him, to Los Angeles, though I haven't told my parents that part, and you won't either, right?" Clara gave an expectant look to the man that sat across the room.

"No, of course not." His smile was assurance enough. Clara calmed herself and settled into her spot on the bed.

"He went silent, as he did from time to time. It was a long while actually, I sat there beside him on the bench while he just stared at his shoes, thinking." Clara smiled at the image of him. Sure, he was putting off what seemed like an extremely cold shoulder but his face in that state, completely free of any animation whatsoever, it was beautiful.

"Are you ready to talk about that night?" Ben seemed patient. Clara sat there for a short second wondering if she should wait. She almost chided herself at the stupidity of holding out. What? Did the guy need a cliffhanger for next week?

"Well, after a couple of minutes he told me he had to be home, and he asked me if I wanted to meet at our place. I said yes, and I went home. When he picked me up it was like nine or something, I snuck out." Clara looked for any disagreement in Ben's eyes, he seemed neutral.

"He seemed normal, normal for him anyway. We went to the old spot in the woods. He kissed me, a long kiss holding me, like…he was saying goodbye." Clara felt the lump build slowly in the back of her throat. She refused to look at Ben, she forced her eyes down.

"He backed away from me and pulled out a knife. I, I remember looking at him with fear, and he saw it. He was frowning, as if he didn't want to do it, but he had to or some shit. I don't know." Clara stopped with a screeching halt, her heart was beating rapidly and her hands were twined in her shirt, holding the fabric so tightly that her knuckles shined white.

"Did he have any illness that you knew of?" Ben asked after a long five minutes of silence. Clara had let go of her shirt and her heart had slowed to the normal beat. She was grateful for the change of subject.

"Schizophrenia, bi-polar disorder, depression, and anxieties. Want to pick one?" Clara asked sarcastically. Ben had no surprise on his face, none that was readable to Clara anyway.

"He stopped taking his meds." Ben assumed. Clara nodded in return not truly astounded that he found that out considering all that had been said.

"Were you aware that he stopped taking his medication at the time?" Ben asked the one question she actually felt that she had to lie about to cover her own ass. She shook her head negatively looking over the floor beneath her feet.

"You don't have to lie to me." Ben said as he stood. Clara stared wide-eyed for a short second before she went rigid with defense.

"I'm not fucking lying." She growled at Ben as he reached the door. Ben shot her a knowing smirk and Clara shrunk again without a smidge of confidence.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He said as he opened the door. Clara shrugged looking away awkwardly. She was in to deep now, he knew what had really happened, not all of it, but a good bit. She'd end up telling him more, who knew, maybe therapy was exactly what she needed.

The sun began to fall slowly as she watched the gazebo with great concentration. Then as if it were a reversal of the last time she saw the boy standing in the opening of the gazebo, looking up at her.

She smiled down at him automatically. His face looking even paler in the twilight that made it's way into the gazebo. He still looked miserable, like he wanted nothing more than to fall off the face of the earth. All Clara knew of him was that he wanted to play a cruel game of cat and mouse with her. One that Clara knew she couldn't win. But, she'd be damned if she wouldn't give it a try.


	3. Meeting The Darkness

Her smile faded as she slipped into the lightlessness of her room. She quickly found the door and slung it open. She caught the stairs and ran down them, her bare feet slapping the hard wood rapidly. When she reached the bottom she slid into the kitchen and halted almost immediately. Her mother and an older lady sat at the kitchen island talking.

They went silent looking over at Clara as she caught her breath and struggled to calm herself. Clara looked out of the window casually and saw the boy, he was still there, she had done it, she had caught him.

Constance Langdon sat proudly at the kitchen island. Her sweet smile making it's way across her face to greet the wild looking teenager. Her blond hair done up and her makeup not falling anywhere under impressive. She placed a thin hand atop her crossed legs.

"Well hello there, doll." Constance said to Clara. Clara ripped her eyes from the window as she completely took control of herself.

"Hi." Clara smiled not breaking eye contact to gaze out the window even though she wanted to so desperately. Annie's look of concern vanished as she heard the cheery voice fall out of her daughter's mouth. Clara was cheery indeed, she was successful, she won, she caught him, finally.

"Clara this is Constance, she lives next door." Annie smiled from ear to ear. She thought the therapy might make a change over time, but this was spectacular, just a half an hour made Clara more happy than anyone had seen her since that night.

"Nice to meet you, Constance." Clara pulled her instant manners out of a hat. Constance lit up with another smile. Clara couldn't keep her eyes from the window any longer. She looked up quickly her eyes darting to the gazebo. It was empty. "_Fuck._" Clara muttered under her breath.

Annie got up slowly from the stool, Constance rose to help her. Clara turned around and started towards the door.

"Honey, what were you thinking for dinner?" Annie asked with a smile. Clara sighed deeply, she had hoped to make a clean escape and hide away in the depths of her room.

"Um, well, what about pizza?" Clara asked dismissively. Annie's face fell for a short moment, then she realized she couldn't have everything she hoped for at once. Annie nodded before she let Clara wander away.

Clara walked slowly up the stairs not letting her eyes wander from her own feet as she stepped up each carpet covered step. When she reached the top she looked up finding her door and walking into it, then slamming it behind her. She walked over to the window to look down at gazebo that was blanketed in the night's darkness she sighed, closing the curtains that made the room pitch black.

As she lay on the bed she sighed with defeat. Clara wanted so badly to catch the boy, and she was so damn close. She could only think of how he was getting away, almost like he was dissipating into thin air.

Clara's hazel eyes stared into the darkness that surrounded her. Complete and utter silence accompanied that sacred absence of color. It made her feel empty, like there was nothing left.

"He cut you?" The words lolled into the air like a cold blast of wind blowing through everything in one swift motion. Clara jumped up looking into the blackness of her room. The voice was quiet and had no rasp, it sounded lovely to her. Two steps sounded in the silence and there he was. The boy stood no more than nine feet from Clara. His white face stood out in the abyss.

"Who are you?" Clara's own question slipped almost soundlessly from her lips. The boy frowned and looked down for a moment.

"Tate." He said flatly. Clara could hear the sheer dullness in his voice. The anger and gut wrenching pain just below the surface, hiding, but not very well. Tate's breath echoed with a hollow sound before he spoke again. "Is that how you got that scar?" His question assaulted Clara in an unknown way.

Clara looked down automatically. The small whimper that welled inside her stayed locked in her slowly moving chest.

"In your story, he cut you." Tate said. He stood in the darkness as if he needed to keep his distance and stay concealed from Clara for the most part. Clara bit the inside of her lip, screaming at herself to say something to him.

"Yes, he cut me." Clara could feel the slice again. Inching slowly with pristine precision across her neck. The sickening hot feeling coating her neck. As she resurfaced she realized that she was alone.

* * *

><p>Annie walked into the room her husband had claimed as his office. She looked over his desk that was cluttered with loose papers and sticky notes. Matthew was passed out on the desk. His arms under his head and his chairs rolled back a little. Annie smiled at the blankness of Matthew's face while he slept.<p>

After a few long minutes of watching Matthew sleep Annie slid her hands over his back and stopped at his shoulders. She rubbed his shoulders lightly until he awoke with a long sigh.

"Magic fingers, as I've always said." Matthew murmured. Annie laughed letting him loose with a grin. "What time is it?" He asked rubbing his eyes. Annie moved to the side of him.

"It's nearly ten o'clock and Clara hasn't left her bedroom." Annie's face fell a little. She wanted Clara to be happy and normal, but that was selfish and she knew it.

"Should we drag her out kicking and screaming?" Matthew always had a sarcastic smile when it came to Clara's behavior. It only made Annie all the more angry. Annie shook her head quickly and looked evenly at her husband.

"Matthew, you'll have to start being a father. Not only to Clara who really needs it, but the babies as well." Annie knew she hadn't worded herself right when she saw the raw look of disbelief cross Matthew's face.

"You're kidding right?" Matthew was only starting what he had to say. Annie backed up a little looking stern, she meant what she said, no matter how it came out. "I am a father! I put a roof over her head, I paid for private school for twelve years just for her to quit two months before her graduation!" Matthew raised his voice to a notch below a scream. Annie crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to give up.

"I'm a fucking fantastic father, have you ever questioned your mothering? Aren't you the one that told me not to interfere with Aiden and Clara in the first place?" Matthew raised his brows at his scowling wife.

"I thought he was a good kid, okay. Just misunderstood. My parents thought you were poison, that you'd amount to nothing." Annie defended herself properly keeping a calm tone. Matthew scoffed at the statement.

"Maybe they were right." He muttered under his breath as he walked out of the room.

* * *

><p>Clara was sitting next to the box that she had taken out of her closet. She pulled out the photo and looked at the next layer of stuff. There was a beanie that smelled like his clean hair, there was a sketch of Clara that Aiden had done, and a small box, and inside it was a razor blade. Small, square and fairly sharp. Clara felt the ominous shiver rip up her spine as she slid her finger along the flat top of the silver utensil. A long minute passed, just Clara and this piece of memory.<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>You're not scared, are you?" Aiden questioned with a serious air. Clara gleamed with a smirk while she shook her head. Inside she was feeling the thunderous waves of excitement and fear colliding against each other to bring her the knee buckling adrenaline that engulfed her entire body.<em>

"_Not at all." Clara murmured into the serene lightlessness of the room. Aiden chuckled darkly placing a hand on Clara's soft face._

"_That's my girl." He said before he moved his hand down to her left index finger. He brought it up slowly also lifting the gleaming razor at a identical height. Clara leaned over slowly with her right hand to wrap her fingers in his shirt. Aiden smiled reassuringly as he slid the razor across her soft flesh parting it in two._

_Scarlet blood pooled at the slice immediately. Clara let out a small hiss as she gripped his shirt even tighter. Aiden moved his finger next to hers and slid the razor over his quickly making the same slice to himself. Aiden smiled darkly as he pressed his wound against hers. _

"_Forever." Aiden murmured as he placed his bloody hand against Clara's face._

* * *

><p>Clara's eyes were filled with stinging tears. She collapsed onto the floor pressing her knees into her chest and sobbing. She didn't want to miss him, but she couldn't help it. She didn't want to cry over him, but she did. Clara was in love with someone that she hated.<p> 


	4. Falling Into Place

The sun rose slowly throwing lights over the floor in front of the window in Clara's room. She breathed in deeply noticing her face was still against the hard floor. She had cried herself to sleep, again. She'd count, but it would only make her feel like more of a pitiful piece of shit.

Her eyes stung, and her right cheekbone felt like she had been hit in it. Clara kept her breath steady as she propped herself up on her weak arms. She found her phone and checked the clock. It was one in the afternoon. Clara sighed rubbing her face with a tingling hand.

She could hear the words Tate had spoken play over again. Clara feared that she was going completely insane, she had seen him, heard him speak. But, she had to wonder how he got into the house with the security system. Also, how he just disappeared every time she had seen him.

As Clara looked over the bright picture of him in her mind she could see the adorable dimples that shown even when he didn't smile. The deep dark abyss his irises expressed. The pain written all over his pale, flawless face. Then, it hit her. He looked like Aiden, the exception was the hair and eye color, but their faces were quite similar. Clara gasped at the revelation. It chilled her to her very marrow.

Clara went into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. A bluish bruise stained her right cheekbone. Clara showered and dressed thinking all the while of Tate. He was the only thing on her mind now.

With an attempt to push everything from her mind, she went downstairs to find her father. Matthew was in his office wearing a frown and staring at his desk. Clara flared with bitter annoyance at the thought of him making her out to be some crazy little girl that needed to be locked away.

"Hey dad." Clara murmured. Matthew turned to her, seeing the bright bruise on her cheek. He got to his feet taking in the brutal sight of the bruise. He felt the same weakness he had the night he rushed to the hospital to find her unconscious with thick white bandages around her neck.

"What happened to your cheek?" He asked quietly. Clara frowned deeply, shaking her head. Hot blood rushed to her cheeks coloring them a rosy pink.

"I just fell asleep on the floor." Clara muttered with embarrassment. Matthew looked skeptically at her as she tried desperately not to break in front of him. All the things that had happened were piling up inside of her and she refused to let this be the time to break down.

"Are you sure?" He asked. Clara sighed and nodded.

"Of course dad." She smiled and moved her bangs out of her eyes. "Dad, I, just wanted to tell you that I'm not mad about Dr. Harmon." Clara whispered looking up at her dad. Matthew backed up to his desk and sat on the edge folding his arms over his chest and looking evenly at Clara.

"You're not mad?" He asked finding it a little amusing. Matthew knew she was extremely pissed about having to see a therapist. But, he would keep his cool, and let Clara get her yelling and screaming out.

"No, I've come to the conclusion that maybe talking about my family problems would be best." She said keeping her poker face in place. Matthew looked wide-eyed at his daughter.

"What family problems, Clara?" Matthew humored her for a moment. Clara moved to the right of the room to a chair that sat against the wall. She slid down in the chair keeping her face completely serious.

"You know, the way you and mom fight." Clara said, her tone even and unfaltering. She'd see this through, because her father betrayed her, and yes, she needed someone to take her anger out on. She had the devilish idea that it would make her feel better afterwards.

Matthew sat back for a moment trying very hard to ignore the truth in her words. He didn't want give into Clara's whims, but she had hit a sore spot.

"You have no idea what you're talking about Clara." Matthew muttered turning away from her hoping she'd give it up. "Dr. Harmon will be here soon, so I suggest you go up and wait for him." He said, putting off the climbing anger inside of him.

"I have a pristine idea actually, dad. You and mom fight like cats and dogs, but you only started it when I started dating Aiden. Now every single time his name comes up you two go at it. Really it's tragic. But, I'm sure when the babies get here you'll be just fine, you'll get to start over." Clara still held a calm tone while she watched her fathers nostrils flare with bottled anger.

"You'd like to blame this on me and your mother, but-" Matthew cut himself off before he said something that he didn't mean. Clara rose with barred teeth, she wasn't backing down from this.

"But, I'm the one who has the scar. I'm the one who was nearly killed." Clara said standing a few feet from her father. Wearing the same standoffish expression as he was. "Maybe you should just ship me off somewhere. Because getting therapy is not going to make everything that happened just fucking poof away!"

"Clara." Ben's voice took them both by surprise. Clara turned to him slowly feeling abashed. "Are you ready for our session?" He asked. Clara nodded keeping her eyes down. She moved past Ben out of the room and walked up to her room not halting for anyone.

When Ben made his way into her room he sat his recorder on the window seal and brought his notebook out as he sat down. Clara was already seated on the foot of her bed. Ben smiled and pressed the red button on the recorder.

"Clara, we left off taking about Aiden. Can you describe your feelings for him after the accident?" Ben asked looking over his notebook to make short eye contact with Clara. She waited a long while before speaking. Trying in her head to collect her bearings.

"When I woke up in the hospital, I worried if he was caught by the cops actually." Clara scoffed at herself for her own stupidity. "I was pissed, because he tried to kill me, but I was sad because I knew that I'd never get to see him again, not on pleasant terms anyway." Clara said, her shaking fingers fumbling anxiously with her shirt all the while she spoke.

"What happened to him after?" Ben asked. Clara didn't steal a glance his way before speaking this time.

"He got away. After he called an ambulance, he left. Still hasn't been caught." Clara shrugged. She recalled all the waking nights she had worried about him showing up to finish what he had started. She got over it after the wound had scarred over. Ben caught Clara's attention as he reached to turn off the recorder.

"What was that with your father?" He asked letting the notebook fall onto his lap.

"They obviously want me gone, or magically to be clear of all of this." Clara motioned to her neck as a reference to the accident. Ben nodded pursing his lips for a long second.

"Do you feel like your mother and father don't love you anymore?" Ben asked raising his brows. Clara simply shook her head, hoping to give off the signal that she was over with this subject.

"How did you come by that bruise?" He asked, keeping his eyes on Clara's face. Again, Clara filled with chagrin at the question, she damned herself internally for not using a fucking pillow.

"I fell asleep on the floor." She muttered after trying to stop her fidgety movements without any success. After a few minutes of silence, Clara decided to tell Ben something that she thought she'd keep a secret. "I keep seeing someone." Clara muttered. Ben raised a brow.

"A guy. He's got blond hair and brown eyes, and he-" Clara trailed off, thinking on her feet she went to her closet and pulled out the photo of herself with Aiden. She brought it to Ben, standing beside him and placing it in his hands. She slid her index finger to Aiden.

"He looks just like that, except with blond hair and brown eyes." Ben sighed in deeply.

"Is this Aiden?" He asked her. Clara nodded silently leaving the photo in his hands. Ben sat it beside the recorder. He sighed again rubbing his face with what seemed to be frustration.

"Do you think you're seeing this boy, because you miss Aiden?" Ben asked with a stressed tone. Clara wanted to say no, she wanted to be angry at Ben for even suggesting such a thing. But, she merely shrugged without a better reaction.

"Well, our time is up. I'll be seeing you tomorrow, though." Ben collected his things not meeting Clara's searching eyes before he took his leave.


	5. Whispers

Clara frowned at herself thinking over her very short session with Ben. He seemed frustrated about her confession over seeing Tate. She wondered if maybe he just didn't want to have to deal with more than a traumatized teenager but one that was truly mentally ill.

She leaned on the wall staring down at the picture that Ben had left on the window seal. She saw Aiden but thought of Tate.

* * *

><p>Ten days had passed, all ten of them Clara had seen Ben. She had falsely patched things up with her parents and she hadn't seen Tate at all. She was starting to feel completely forlorn for just a glimpse of the sad boy in the window.<p>

The day was dark outside, a storm was on it's way. Clara loved the calm before a storm. Silent, silvery, and beautiful. Just before the raging wind and rain blew through like an eruption from a bottled soul.

Clara watched the window. The wind and drizzle of rain fell against the gazebo with a manageable force. Clara sighed walking out of her room and down the stairs. Her mom and dad were standing in the foyer holding their bags.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us sweetheart?" Annie asked with a smile. She was all smiles since Ben had a sit down talk with Clara and her parents. Making everything seem alright from anyone else's point of view.

It had been enough to get Clara the whole house for the weekend. Annie and Matthew were going to a friend's wedding back in Georgia. Ben made it very clear to Annie and Matthew both that it wouldn't be good at this time for Clara to go back there.

"Doctor's orders." Clara smiled showing her falsely recovered side. On the inside she felt the exact same but, she realized that showing it would only cause more problems than she really needed.

"We know honey." Matthew said pulling Clara into a tight hug. "Don't do anything illegal." He whispered into her hair. Clara chuckled as he released her.

"I love you." Annie said as she wrapped her arms around her daughter. Clara bit the inside of her mouth as she felt the urge to retort with a bitter 'sure you do.'

"Love you guys too." Clara said as Matthew and Annie walked out the door. They took their last bags and Clara was home free. She watched out the window in the sitting room as they pulled out of the driveway.

As Clara found herself alone, she wondered if they were going to relay her new number to Bell. Bell was Clara's best friend, had been since birth, really. Clara had lost her number with her old cell-phone and thought being in touch with other humans would add generously to her façade.

Clara walked slowly up to her room stopping at the edge of the stairs when she saw him. Tate was leaning against the far wall looking curiously at Clara.

"Your parents left you here?" He asked, Clara nodded. She didn't move an inch. She was afraid that if she did, Tate would be gone again. "Why?" He asked walking over to a closer wall just to prop himself against that.

"A wedding, back home." Clara wanted to hit herself. Tate nodded and looked over Clara once more, his dark eyes resting on her face.

"They're not worried about you?" Tate asked, Clara felt a pull inside of her.

"Why would they be?" She asked Tate feeling defensive. He shrugged.

"I don't know." Tate mumbled and stood up straight. He walked slowly into Clara's room waiting for her to follow, and she did. Tate sat in the chair Ben always had and Clara stood by her bed.

They both sat in silence for a while, it wasn't awkward like it was with Ben, but more of a friendly gesture. Tate reached over to the window seal and picked up the photo that Clara hadn't the heart to move.

"Is this the guy from your story?" Tate asked, his brown eyes flicking up to meet Clara's. She nodded, he let his eyes fall back to the picture after he got his answer.

"Who said you could read that anyway?" Clara asked, her brows raising in question. Tate cracked a smile that took Clara right off guard. She couldn't help but to see Aiden giving her the charming, adorable smile.

"Yes, that's him." Clara sighed. She shook herself, she couldn't do this. Clara could not let herself give into the sick idea of being with someone who looked like Aiden. Not to forget the question of Tate's actual existence.

"Why did he do it?" Tate asked. Clara wished he would not dig up the grueling memories for her. Deep inside she knew very well that she'd only feel awful just as soon as Tate decided to disappear again.

"My mom and dad were making me move away from him." Clara whispered looking quickly over the gazebo that was now being pelted with hard rain.

"Did he love you?" Tate's solemn expression was all but inadequate for the topic. Clara stood facing the window. Arms crossed over her chest. Her black shirt hanging over her jeans like a short dress, her light brown wavy hair falling around her shoulders, and her sock covered feet in an awkward position on the wooden floor.

"I loved him, didn't matter in the end though." Clara murmured not moving her eyes from the window in front of her. Clara's breath touched the window causing it to fog. Tate watched her face with extreme content.

"Why don't you explain how the hell you're getting into the house." Clara had to push herself. It was all becoming to surreal for her. Tate sat back a little.

"That's a secret." He flashed another smile at Clara, this one obviously being false. Clara sighed and slumped over to her bed. She laid on her stomach and looked over at Tate holding her face in her hands.

"You know more about me than my therapist does. So, you spill." Clara muttered. Her face looked lovely in the dim light from her bedside lamp. The bruise was hardly even visible any longer.

"Or what?" Tate tested Clara not even forcing a smile to his lips this time.

"Or, I refuse to utter another word your way." Clara shrugged acting as if she really didn't care. Tate's halfhearted smile surfaced before he nodded.

"Someone loved me and I betrayed her." Tate put his shortcomings out plain and simple. Clara stared in awe of his truthfulness for a few long seconds.

"Did you try to kill her?" Clara mused. Tate shifted in his seat.

"I tried to keep her alive, actually." The deep pain in his voice made something quite clear to Clara. She sat up looking at Tate from where she sat.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." Clara felt the huge lump building in the back of her throat. Before Clara could console Tate any further the lights in her room went out with an audible 'click.' Clara gasped and looked into complete darkness around her.

Clara hadn't noticed how quickly night had fallen outside. Now it was clearly visible, since there was not a speck of light coming in from Clara's window. The rain outside seemed loud as she walked past her window.

"Here, follow me." Tate murmured. Clara felt cold fingers intertwine with her own. She could feel Tate close to her as he pulled her along the way. She could feel the stair rail. She gripped it with her free hand as she walked down with Tate.

"There are some candles in the basement." Tate muttered as they reached the floor of the foyer. Clara went along with Tate to the basement door. The creaking of the door made a disturbed feeling boil in the pit of Clara's stomach.

Tate tightened his grip on Clara's hand as they walked down the stairs. When they reached the bottom Clara felt that she could breathe again. Five steps into the blackness that Tate called the basement was all it took for him to let go of Clara's hand.

Clara stood completely still, praying to any god that would hear her desperate pleas that Tate hadn't chosen this time to leave her alone. The blackness that surrounded Clara was unending and impossible to see through. A hiss of close echoes sounded in the air around Clara. It shook her to her core.

"Tate, where the fuck are you?" Clara hissed trying not to be to loud. The hisses halted for a second sending straight shivers up Clara's stiffened spine.

The whispery sounds of voices floated around Clara again. Louder this time, the whispers started to inch closer to Clara with every passing second. She felt her body go rigid with vibrating fear. Her eyes stung with tears and her chest moved up and down with her erratic breath. As the voices got close enough to touch her, she was being pulled into strong arms.


	6. Alone

Clara whimpered feeling herself go limp. She was half drug up the stairs before she fell to the floor and heard the door slam. She was being picked up again before she could react and carried into the sitting room. Clara fell back on the couch trying to stop herself from crying.

"Are you okay?" Tate's voice was close to Clara. She heard his feet on the floor as he took heavy steps to somewhere nearby. Clara closed her eyes trying desperately to hold back the tears that were begging to be released. A flame flickered on the table next to her when she opened her eyes again. It illuminated Tate's concerned face.

"What the hell was that?" Clara questioned with a weak tone. Tate shook his head. Clara was feeling way to drained to even attempt to pry the answer out of him. So, she gave up. "Forget it." She muttered looking down at her socks.

"Ghosts." Tate murmured, he was looking at the silver lighter that sat in his right hand. Clara looked up, shock readable on her blood drained face.

She had never believed in ghosts, or at least never felt that the issue appealed to her. As Clara thought over the actuality of ghosts being in the basement of this old house. She decided that it was ridiculous, but, it could be possible nonetheless.

"Okay, ghosts." Clara let the words fall out of her mouth lazily. She would accept it for now because, if she was bat-shit crazy like she assumed, well why not believe in ghosts too?

Clara laid back on the couch feeling her body go numb again. She hadn't been shaken like that since…

* * *

><p>Light shown over Clara's ghostly appearance. She was lying on the couch in the sitting room, her bangs in her eyes, her shirt wrinkled and her arms covered in goose-bumps from the looming coldness in the house.<p>

"Tate." Clara muttered for him before she even opened her eyes. When she received no answer her heart fell. As she sat up her eyes stayed on the burned down candle.

Clara tiptoed towards the stairs feeling even more of a chill. She ran up the stairs and went into her room. As Clara reached her closet she slowed and slung the door open. Avoiding the box that sat open in the floor she picked out an outfit and walked to the bathroom.

Clara closed the door behind her mindlessly leaving it unlocked. She sat her clothes on the vanity and turned the water on. She showered quickly, stepping out of the old-fashioned tub and wrapping herself in a thick towel.

Clara walked to the mirror and vanity wiping the fog from her reflection. As she stared at herself, she frowned.

* * *

><p>"<em>Aiden I'm sorry about what I said earlier, about you not caring about me. I couldn't stand not being with you. Maybe we should run away together." Clara was watching the water rushing. <em>

_Aiden stood staring at Clara, admiring the way the moon illuminated her porcelain skin. He wasn't hearing a thing she was saying only watching her. "Clara." He purred beckoning to her with no regret for the oncoming slaughter._

"_What is it?" Clara asked turning around to look at him. Aiden felt for the cold solid blade that rested in the pocket of his jeans. He pulled it out slowly twisting it in his hands with fearless notions._

"_Aiden." Clara's soft frightened words lolled out of her perfectly lush lips as he approached still twisting the knife. Her whole body shook under his grasp but she didn't fight him. He placed his free hand on her chin lifting her to face him. _

"_We'll be together, forever." Aiden whispered close enough to Clara's quivering lips for her to feel the warm sweet breath that escaped his mouth. He moved his free hand to the back of her neck. He pulled her to himself and kissed her hard._

_Aiden moved his hand to the front of her neck as he moved behind her. He held her close to him feeling the violent shaking that her body held. He brought the blade to her skin letting it rest on her neck for a silent second. _

"_I love you Clara." Aiden breathed into her right ear. Clara let out a shaking breath in response. Aiden's fingers tightened on the blade as he slid it across her neck. The pain striking every inch of Clara's being._

* * *

><p>Clara stared into the mirror as she held the razor to her neck just above the scar. Her body didn't shake this time, she felt completely in control and utterly at ease. She could almost smell the metallic liquid from the loud memory.<p>

As her fingers tightened on the razor, she saw Tate. He stood behind her, just like Aiden had that night…

As everything plummeted back to the here and now Clara gasped throwing the razor into the sink. Stepping back from the razor lying mischievously in the sink, she realized that something awful was about to take place and she was about to let it.

Tate was looking at her with anger and relief. Clara felt abashed as she snatched her clothes and ran to her room slamming the door and locking it quickly. She dressed and started to pace. Her wet hair dripping down onto her shirt making her shoulders cold.

A yelp crawled up her throat and she let it out. She stopped pacing, trying hard to define what the hell was about to happen in that bathroom. Her hands balled into fists so hard that her knuckles shined white and her nails dug into her palms.

A warm tear fell slowly down her cheek. She was afraid, of herself. Clara wanted to stop everything that was spinning and just analyze things from an outside point of view. She felt maybe then she could understand what was happening to her.

Now she was a loose cannon to nobody but herself. Clara had gotten so good at fooling everyone else, she was even hiding who she was from herself.

A small knock jerked her from her teary-eyed stupor. She opened the door to see Tate standing there seeming not to be judging her.

"Do you want to die?" His question sounded as if he was asking something simple, as if he was asking Clara to dance. Clara retreated from the door to sit on her bed. The tears started to come down faster and bit more heavier.

"I don't know what that was in there Tate. I didn't. I just." Clara couldn't find her words correctly. She let her face fall into her hands. She was literally losing her fucking mind and it would obviously be the death of her.

She could feel Tate beside her pulling her into his arms. She could feel the rumble in his chest as he began to speak.

"You're going to be okay, Clara." He said. Sounding so sure that he almost fooled Clara…almost.


	7. Old Friends

As the day progressed Clara stayed in the comfort of Tate's embrace. She feared that if she were alone again, she'd succeed in whatever it was in her subconscious she yearned for.

"What was her name?" Clara asked, her face still warm against Tate's soft shirt. Tate moved a little, seemingly coming alive again from the long silence.

"Violet." He muttered. Clara could feel his heart race at the mere sound of her name as it passed his lips.

"What happened?" Clara felt that it only be fair for him to tell her, since he read word for word what had happened to Clara.

"I cheated on her." He shrugged, Clara could've almost laughed at the simplicity of it. Every other relationship problem would seem benign to her of course.

"Is that why she killed herself?" Clara asked. Tate let out a ragged sigh. His pale face twisting with familiar pain. The fast flashes of Violet's death ran through his mind.

"No." Tate stopped talking quickly as Clara sat up. As Clara examined Tate's agonized expression she put her hand on his. "Do you want to kill yourself?" Tate asked her. They sat on the bed not five inches from each other both looking mundane and pale.

"I. No, no I don't want to kill myself." Clara looked away as she answered him. She really didn't want to kill herself, but the question of wanting to die was still unanswered. Clara got to her feet walking to the door of her room that was still wide open.

Tate was following her with a smile. They walked into the kitchen where Clara opened a cabinet to pull out a box of popcorn, she opened a single pack and stuck it in the microwave. Tate was sitting on a barstool watching as Clara moved about the kitchen grabbing a big bowl and two cups.

"Want to watch a movie with me?" Clara asked, Tate nodded. Clara thought she needed some kind of distraction, and Tate's quietness and touchy subjects weren't doing the exact job.

After Clara prepared the popcorn and drinks. Clara and Tate took everything into the living room. Clara put Nightmare Before Christmas in the dvd player and sat on the couch next to Tate. Clara had always loved this particular movie and it always cheered her up, but today, it didn't really suffice.

When the sun went down Clara found herself sitting next to Tate watching the credits with no interest whatsoever.

"I can't believe you've never seen it before." Clara said sitting back on the arm of the couch. Tate looked over at her as if he had forgotten she was there.

"I'm not really in touch with today's media." He murmured giving Clara a weak smile. Clara chuckled shaking her head.

"Well, you may live through me vicariously if that's what you need." Clara laughed getting up from her seat. Tate rose with her like a true gentleman. Clara walked into the foyer stopping at the sudden sound in the basement. It was loud and made Clara shudder with fear.

"What the hell was that?" Clara asked Tate, who was standing next to her. "Is it the ghosts?" Clara realized how daft she sounded after the words left her lips. Tate shrugged moving past her towards the hall. Clara grabbed his sleeve stopping him.

"Where are you going?" She asked him, he looked to the hall as another crash sounded from the basement.

"I'm going to see what it is, stay here." He whispered. Clara felt his hands leave her arms and she followed him to the door and waited as he went inside. She leaned against the wall feeling a bit shaky.

Ten minutes passed before the lights in the house went out. Clara shivered as she moved from the wall to find the foyer. There was a bit of light from the windows, she waited for Tate there. Watching the darkened hallway with shaky breaths. When she saw Tate she let out a sigh of relief.

"What was it?" She asked him, her voice calm. Tate stood at the edge of the darkness not showing himself completely.

"The window in the basement is broken." His voice was slow and deeper, with a dead tone. Clara gasped reeling back from the hallway. "Sorry about all the noise, Clara." She couldn't stand the way her name was drug out. A few seconds of hearing her loud heartbeat went by. Aiden stepped out from the shadows.

Clara sucked in a sharp breath turning to run up the stairs. Tears were streaming down her face and her whole body shaking. She fell into the first door at the top of the stairs. Her fingers fumbling with the lock before the knob was being jerked violently.

"Clara, Clara open the door. I just want to talk." Aiden purred against the door. Clara shrank into herself in the corner of the room. She wanted to disappear, she wanted to be somewhere else, and she wanted Aiden to leave her alone.

After a few minutes of silence Clara walked to the door resting her ear against it to listen for any clue that Aiden was still there. She heard nothing, so she unlocked the door hoping to make it to her room without being caught, she just needed her cell-phone.

She fell into her door kicking it closed in the same second. Before she could get a hold of the lock, the door was being pushed on. Clara pushed the door closed with her foot using all of her strength and that still wasn't enough. The door busted open throwing Clara's foot by the wayside and Aiden walked in wearing a deadly smile.

Clara ran towards the window as her last resort. As her fingers met the window's latch she was being pulled away by her hair. Clara screeched with pain as Aiden flung her onto the bed. Clara backed away to the edge stopping when she saw the knife in his hand, Clara felt instant vertigo.

"I was thinking about you Clara." Aiden spoke calmly as he walked smoothly to her door closing it and turning back to her. "Hell, you were the only thing on my mind for so long." Aiden smiled charmingly placing the knife on top of Clara's dresser. "So, I came back for you so we could be together, finally. No backing out this time." His promise made Clara's heart fall.

Clara measured Aiden's distance from the beeline to the door, he was standing next to the dresser which was by the far wall. Clara stood placing a hand on the bedpost. Aiden turned to her.

"You don't have to kill me Aiden." Clara said looking over the floor in front of her. "We can be together here." Clara murmured before his cold hands were on her neck. She was forced to look into his cold gray eyes.

"Forever doesn't last here." Aiden smiled placing a kiss on Clara jaw. "I think the last few months have been pure proof of just that." Another kiss that made Clara shudder. Aiden laughed darkly before moving back to the dresser.

Clara took off, she reached the door and ran through the hall and almost reached the stairs. She felt Aiden's strong hand on her neck pulling her down. She fell, her face just above the first step.

"Tate! Tate!" She screamed at the top of her lungs as Aiden grabbed her by the neck cutting off her air supply. Clara's next breath was caught in her windpipe as Aiden held her there against the floor. When he released her she rolled onto her side fighting for air.

"Tate? Was that his name? Was he your new boyfriend?" Aiden's calmness tore Clara up inside, she hated him to her very marrow. She coughed, taking in short breaths of air as he stood against the wall looking down at her with a hateful smirk.

"Well, sorry babe, but I slit his throat. Hope you two weren't to serious." He smirked again. Clara let out a twisted cry as she started to stand up.

"Fuck you Aiden." Clara growled stepping back from the stairs. Aiden's smirk was wiped away as he stomped forward. He threw Clara against the wall, her head smacked into the wall with a earth shattering force. She slid to the floor in a mindless daze, a loud ringing blared in her ears. Aiden chuckled, walking back to her.

"Awe Clara did that hurt?" Aiden chided before kicking her swiftly in the stomach. "You used to be so tough." He muttered turning around to look over the stair rail. Clara cried into the floor feeling the hot blood from her busted lip coating her chin. She smelt the thick metallic heavily, it made her feel sick to her stomach.

"Do it." Clara sputtered, spitting out the blood that coated her bottom teeth. Aiden looked at her with true shock. "Just fucking do it, and don't call and ambulance so early this time you motherfucker!" Clara screamed at him from where she lay. Aiden sucked in a breath and grabbed Clara by her hair again dragging her into her room.

Clara fell to the floor in the middle of her room, her scarlet blood pooling under her mouth. Aiden walked to the dresser.

Clara pushed herself up, so she could see her final moments. Aiden looked over the dresser again before he turned back to Clara with disappointment. Clara watched as Aiden stepped closer, she saw the evil in his eyes.

Clara shuddered as Aiden rushed forward and picked Clara up by her arm. Aiden was about to turn her around when Clara slung them both onto the bed. A shot of pure pain rang through Clara's body. She let out a long whimper looking at the knife that had plundged into her chest just under her right shoulder.

Aiden snatched the knife out standing up and looking over Clara moving his head from side to side. He dropped the knife next to his feet. "Poor Clara." He murmured with a slight smile. Clara looked over to Aiden so she could see his face as she died, she started to slip with the only comfort being that he'd kill himself afterwards, so the world will be free of one less psychopath.

As Clara watched, Tate walked into the room undetected by Aiden. His white shirt was stained with bright blood, but Clara could see no wound on his neck as he walked closer behind Aiden. His face was straight, no fear, no worry, and only a bit of excitement.

Tate picked the knife up swiftly and grabbing Aiden by the forehead bringing the knife quickly in front of him and placing it on his tender neck.

Then, for Clara everything went black.


	8. Still There

Clara lay in a hospital bed, fifteen hours and twenty-seven minutes after the attack. Her eyes both blackened, her lip busted, her neck holding Aiden's black and blue handprint. All the bruises looking ghastly against her completely white skin.

Matthew could feel his heart being squeezed still from the frantic call he received from Constance. He thought the worst when he had heard that Aiden came back for Clara, but she survived again and for that he was utterly thankful.

Annie sat in the chair next to the hospital bed her hands on her stomach as she sobbed. She told Matthew repeatedly on the way back from Georgia that they should've brought her with them. She also begged god in her head that Clara would be okay.

The beep of the heart monitor was steady, Clara could feel the IV itching in her arm as she was opening her blackened eyes. Her father was standing against the wall and her mother was sitting in the chair crying. She had seen this before, it was almost true as a memory. The difference was the outcome in Clara's groggy mind. She worried where Tate was, and if Tate was okay.

Clara didn't speak, or move for a while, she just watched her parents mournful faces as if they had lost someone dear.

"Mom, dad." Her voice was hoarse and her throat felt like she had swallowed razorblades. Matthew jetted to Clara's side grabbing her outstretched hand with his warm fingers. Clara smiled mindlessly, Matthew smiled back.

"Clara, baby, are you alright?" Annie asked from the other side of the bed. Clara nodded slowly feeling almost certain that she was alright, just worried about Tate. Matthew squeezed her hand, as Clara looked at him, he was giving Annie a look that Clara couldn't exactly grasp.

"Aiden's dead." Matthew said, his voice sounding flat and without care whatsoever, Clara felt nothing particular about losing Aiden, either. She nodded meekly.

"I know." She said with a simple tone.

* * *

><p>She was released from the hospital after a day of observation. Clara couldn't wait to get home and find Tate. When Matthew helped Clara up to her room she saw the slight bloodstain of the rug. Clara gave it a curt nod.<p>

"Can you take that rug out?" Clara asked her father as she sat on the bed. Matthew nodded picking up the rug on his way out of the room.

"Get some rest, I'll bring dinner up in a while." Matthew said before closing the door. Clara looked out the window on the right wondering where Tate was, and how long it would be before she saw him again.

The painkillers were still in her system, they made her feel giddy and relaxed. As if all her adrenalin had been diminished and her bad thoughts were held at bay. As Clara struggled to her feet, her door opened. She looked up assuming it to be her father, but it was Tate.

"Tate, oh my god." Clara felt the memories resurfacing within Tate's mere appearance. She could recall Tate dragging Aiden as he choked on his own blood out of the room. Tate brought her into his arms holding her there firmly. His face held his nearly trademarked frown.

"What the hell happened?" Clara asked squeezing his shirt with her shaking fingers. Tate shook his head, a tear falling down slowly and silently. As Clara let go she looked at his sad smile.

"Do you hate me?" Tate asked almost silently not meeting Clara's eyes. Clara took in a long breath.

"For saving me?" Clara asked backing up from him. Tate shook his head.

"I didn't save you!" He yelled, making Clara flinch. "I couldn't get him out of the house before he…" Tate trailed off looking away from Clara's confused face.

"What do you mean?" Clara asked stumbling a little. Tate took her to her bed and sat down beside her.

"Aiden is still here." He muttered, Clara looked at him with shock. His words seemed like a death sentence to her. Aiden couldn't still be there, Clara knew as much. "He died in this house, he's still here and he'll find a way to keep you here with him. He'll kill you." Tate said, Clara shook her head with frustration.

Tate seemed vastly serious about what he was saying. Clara could feel her heart starting to race inside her chest.

"When people die in this house, they stay here, like me." Tate said. Clara's racing heart seemed as if it came to a halt. She automatically believed him, no matter how insane it was to her, she believed him.

"Is Violet?" Clara asked watching her hands as they shook.

"Yes." He murmured with defeat.

"Is that it?" Clara asked quietly looking over to watch Tate. He shook his head negatively. "What can I do about Aiden?" She was terrified at the thought of Aiden being able to appear and disappear out of nowhere like Tate had the habit of doing.

"Nothing, except leave." Tate's dead tone indicated that he didn't want that. Clara didn't want to leave, she wanted to be with Tate and even if she could leave him, her parents would refuse, they sunk all the money into this house. Tate held a twisted frown for a moment more, then his face changed, he looked simply blank.

"I think you should leave." He said, tone dead just as before and now with an expression to match it. Clara winced at the suggestion and looked Tate in the eyes.

"I don't want to leave you, Tate." The sound in her voice was undeniably love pulling it into pieces making her sound broken and weak. Tate shook his head.

"You should leave, because he'll come, and when he does I might not be there to save you." Tate said harshly walking out of the door. Clara got up to follow, but as she knew he would, he had vanished. Clara wrapped her arms around herself as she walked back into her room closing the door quietly and lying on the bed and falling soundly to sleep.

* * *

><p>The breathing was what woke her up. Steady and nearly silent close to her neck. She felt the arm around her waist and she thought it was Tate. She looked over at the person who lay next to her. Aiden lay there staring at her. Clara jumped out of the bed feeling completely awake and scared out of her fucking wits.<p>

"Clara, what's wrong?" He asked in a way that sounded so sincere that Clara was almost taken off guard. Clara stumbled back towards the door keeping her eyes on Aiden who was sitting up in her bed with a confused look.

Clara found the knob behind her and twisted it open running down the hall towards the stairs. She held the rail tightly as she ran down the stairs. When she met the floor she ran towards her dad's office. She turned to look behind her before bumping into someone and falling to the floor. Aiden towered over her wearing a smirk.

"You should really calm down Clara, you might hurt yourself." Aiden chuckled looking to his right and frowning deeply. "You know, your new boyfriend is a real psycho, I think he just might have me beat." Aiden said as he walked away. Clara still lay on the floor in the hallway, her shoulder throbbing and her head spinning.

Tate came out from the shadows holding out his hand to Clara. His face was unreadable as Clara examined him. She took his hand and stood looking down the hall to where Aiden had walked, he was gone. Clara shook herself and looked back to Tate.

"He's still here." Clara muttered. "He's still here." She muttered once more. Tate took her under his arm and looked at her with seriousness.

"I'm going to keep you safe." He murmured.

* * *

><p>The night was going to be a long one. Clara laid on her bed sleeplessly while Tate sat in the chair by her bed.<p>

"Talk to me." Clara sighed turning over to see Tate. A smile flashed over his face before he spoke.

"About what?" He asked.

"About yourself." Clara muttered.

"What about me?" He questioned.

"How long have you been here?" Clara asked resting her hands on her stomach.

"A long time." He retorted.

"Was Violet your only girlfriend?" Clara asked with a timid tone.

"Yes." Tate said passively.

"Do you still love her?" Clara whispered. Tate looked at her with significance then, seemingly to be studying her face.

"I don't think so." He looked away quickly. Clara could hear the uncertainty in his tone, she turned back over. She felt unnamable feelings for Tate, he had saved her. He had done something no one else had done. She wasn't sure if what she felt was love, but she felt it, and quite intensely.

When Clara finally fell asleep Tate stayed in her room looking over her like her guardian angel.


	9. Sanity

As Clara awoke she found Tate's hand next to hers, it brought an involuntary smile to her face. Tate was sitting in the chair that he had moved closer to the bed. He was reading Clara's Edgar Allen Poe collection of short stories and poems.

"Are you a fan of Poe?" She asked tracing his fingers where they lay. Tate nodded closing the book and turning to see Clara. He hated having to see the bruises on her pale tender face.

"What's your favorite work of his?" Tate asked her catching her hand in mid air and holding it in his own.

"The Black Cat." Clara smiled, she loved that story. She even had a cat named Pluto when she was twelve, and he was indeed big and onyx colored with a patch of white hair on his chest.

"I prefer The Tell-Tale Heart." Tate squeezed Clara's hand gently before he let her loose.

"Ben will be here soon." Clara sighed looking up at the ceiling. Tate stood and drew Clara's attention to him with a snap.

"I'll come back in a while, I'm sure you'll be safe." Tate said before he turned to leave Clara sitting up on her bed with a lovelorn heart and sad smile.

* * *

><p>Clara decided that she get dressed and walk outside for a bit. When she found herself sitting in the gazebo with a sort of mindless detachment she could feel the reality flood in.<p>

Tate was a ghost, Aiden was a ghost, and they were both stuck in the same house, with Clara. She was afraid of Aiden, but she was feeling something indefinable for Tate. Clara didn't understand the feeling but it came with just the simple glimpse of Tate.

As she pondered over the important issues something large and black caught her eye. She followed it quickly to see a cat sitting just outside the gazebo. It took a full second for her to realize it was Pluto, and she was taken aback. Pluto had gotten ran over in Georgia, a year ago.

A long meow came from the cat's throat and it brought a gasp from Clara's. She stood and started towards Pluto with an outstretched hand.

"Pluto." She cooed stepping slowly toward the stationed cat. As she laid her hand on his thick soft fur she could feel the warmth from him. It was so real to her.

"Seeing things?" Aiden asked bringing Clara back to the surface with a snap. She looked directly into his grey irises. He was so close to Clara, she had to wonder if she had completely blacked out. She pushed away from him making quick distance between them.

"What are you talking about?" She scoffed. Aiden smiled and sat down on the bench putting his arm on the rail of the gazebo.

"Seeing things is the first sign, then you hear voices. Then you're cutting the throat of the only person you have ever loved." Aiden looked slightly calm, except the way he clenched his jaw every few seconds.

"I'm not schizophrenic." Clara retorted making sure she kept the distance between them. Aiden chuckled and shook his head.

"It takes one to know one, Gray." Aiden smiled at Clara's frowning face. "Just know, I'm always here to talk, I don't think Tate would understand, or maybe he just might." Aiden said before Clara turned to see Moira rushing outside.

"Leave her alone." Moira demanded taking Clara's hand in hers and walking with her into the house. Clara didn't know exactly what to think. "Ben is here to see you." She said before Clara could ask her a single question.

* * *

><p>Ben was sitting in the chair Tate had been kind enough to move back to the window. His solemn expression meant he had received the news of Clara's unsuspected fate.<p>

Clara sat with the comfort that at least Ben and her parents had no clue how big it had actually gotten. To them it was a tussle that Clara made out of with a few bruises and a stab wound, and Aiden was gone for good and Clara was finally safe and sound. Oh, how wrong they were.

"Clara, I'm glad your okay." He said urgently as if he had known, everything. Clara shook off her suspicion and smiled weakly. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" Ben asked leaning back and clicking the recorder on.

Clara remembered giving the police her statement and simply repeated the words she had related to them.

"I was watching a movie. After it was over I was on my way to the kitchen when the lights went out and I heard something loud in the basement. I was to scared to look for myself so I just hid. Aiden found me though and was really angry." Clara sighed shortly feeling the instant shock of pain in her neck where his handprint still showed.

"Did he say anything to you?" Ben asked cutting her off mid melodramatic story. Clara felt a little rise of heat in her face realizing Ben Harmon wasn't exactly a dumbass when it came to psychotic teenagers. He knew that Aiden's oversized ego was too much for him not to converse with his victim.

"Uh, he told me that the basement window was broken, and he apologized about all the noise." Clara shrugged. Ben looked at Clara evenly from where he sat.

"Are you still afraid of him?" Ben asked making Clara feel uneasy. He couldn't know this about her, could he? Clara did know that he'd know if she lied to him so she went on with it.

"I'm still afraid of him." She nodded, her answer was obscure enough but still, it was very true.

"Now, I hope that all of our progress has not faltered. Last night, how did you sleep?" The sweet memory of waking up to see Tate still beside her made her smile.

"Like a baby." She admitted quietly.

* * *

><p>Annie waited in the kitchen for Clara's session to end. She felt like Clara was slowly slipping out of her grips and that genuinely frightened her. When she saw Ben leave she rushed to him holding her stomach.<p>

"Ben, how is she doing?" Annie asked worriedly. Ben looked back at her with a smile.

"Clara seems to be doing fine, cooping with the situation. I'm not sure what or who, but she seems to have some sort of support beam, and it's working wonderfully." Ben said reassuringly. Annie couldn't contain the burst of overwhelming relief.

"I'm glad Ben, so we'll see you tomorrow." Annie said on his way out. Clara was standing at the foot of the stairs looking curiously at her mother. Annie turned to her with a bright smile.

"Come here, sweetheart." Annie extended her arms for her daughter. Clara walked slowly to her mom and all but fell into her grasp. Annie hugged her tight. "I love you Clara." Annie whispered into Clara's soft hair.

Clara stood completely still as her mother held her. She felt her eyes sting with oncoming tears that she had to hide. Clara cleared her throat.

"I love you too mom. My chest is hurting." Clara used a valid excuse.

"Oh, honey your medicine is in your bathroom cabinet. Take one if the pain is unbearable." Annie told Clara letting her loose. Clara nodded and started back up the stairs to her bathroom.

The door creaked open as she flipped on the light and stumbled to the cabinet. The truth was that she had a stabbing pain in the stitched up spot on her chest, and she needed a pill. She grabbed the lonely bottle and gave it a shake.

Clara twisted the cap off and took a single pill out of it. She placed it gently on her tongue and flipped the water on cupping her hand under the stream and sipping it to make the pill go down easily.

After she had taken a pill she walked to her room and closed the door behind her finding her way to the bed so she could lay there and feel the warmness slowly inch over her body and make her feel at ease, from everything.


	10. Confessions

Clara was being shook awake. She opened her eyes to see her father's horrorstruck face.

"What is it dad?" Clara questioned quickly. Worry making her brow furrow instantly.

"Your mom's going into labor." He said with a shaky breath. He really seemed as if he hadn't been through this before. "I'm going to take her to the hospital." He said turning to leave.

Clara got up after a few minutes of silence, she knew they were gone from the bang of the front door slamming. She walked to the end of the hall and stopped at the top of the stairs seeing a young girl standing in front of Tate.

Her hair was light brown and straight, her face pale and her eyes looking angrily at Tate. Clara stood still and watched them silently.

"She knows about us?" The girl asked Tate, she seemed as if she couldn't stand to even look at Tate.

"Yes." Tate said nodding and leaning against the wall beside them both.

"About my dad?" She asked worriedly searching for something in Tate's face. Tate looked at her with confusion. "He wanted me to ask, that's the only reason that I'm even speaking to you." She snapped.

"No, she doesn't know about him." Tate said reassuringly. "Does he know about Aiden?" Tate asked. The girl shook her head negatively.

"Mom and dad keep to themselves." She shrugged. Clara was watching so intensely she didn't hear Aiden walk up behind her. Aiden placed his cold hand on Clara's neck parallel to the bruise he had left. His lips close to her ear.

"Violet, isn't that Tate's girlfriend?" He asked quietly. Clara gasped at Aiden's freezing touch. When the words sunk in she could feel her stomach twisting into knots.

"No." Clara breathed. Aiden moved around letting his hand fall and blocking the view of Tate and Violet's conversation.

"I wonder what they're keeping from you." He smiled before walking away from Clara.

Clara shook herself taking a last look at the two of them and walked back to her room slamming the door shut. She felt angry, she wasn't sure why, maybe jealousy, but she'd never admit that to herself. She sat down next to the window and took deep breaths. Her face falling into her hands with bottled frustration.

* * *

><p>When she heard the small knock on her door she looked up quickly. Her body inched forward without an approval. Clara stopped herself and wondered if she was capable of opening the door and keeping a straight face.<p>

She decided that all she really wanted was to see Tate. So she walked to the door and opened it slowly to find Tate smiling at her. Clara wanted to smile too, but she was still on edge about her whole damn day. She walked past him and down the stairs. When she was outside Tate stopped her.

"What's wrong?" Tate asked. Clara shrugged and bit her lip trying to find a lie to give Tate. After she simply gave up she walked to the gazebo and sat down on the bench bringing her knees to her chest and resting her chin atop of them.

"What were you Violet talking about?" Clara kept her voice as neutral as she could. Tate sat next to her and looked up at the house.

"Nothing." Tate said dismissively. Clara sighed closing her eyes at the sting she felt. Tate was obviously still in love with Violet and that made Clara feel like nothing. She wanted to stop caring about Tate at that second, and it was easy to think about without actually looking at him or hearing the sweet sound of his voice.

"Well, hello there friends." Clara's eyes snapped to Aiden's smiling face as he stood outside of the gazebo leaning against the railing. "So, are we talking about that small sulky hipster girl? Violet is her name isn't it Tate?" Aiden smiled a little wider flashing his dimples.

"Leave, Aiden." Tate warned. Clara stayed in her ball-like position watching as the tension grew with every second.

"You know, Tate. She's really cute, a little to depressing for my taste, but, I could succumb to her many other charms." Aiden was testing Tate, Clara knew it. She put her feet on the ground and watched as Tate grew hot with anger.

"Tell me, Tate, you think she'll scream if I cut her? My guess is she wouldn't, she seems to be into that sort of thing." Aiden was whispering to Tate as he stood clenching his fists. Clara stood with Tate but kept herself completely still.

"Shut the fuck up!" Tate barked before he took Aiden to the ground. Clara stood there watching them throw punches with the look of disgust.

Tate planted a earth shattering punch to Aiden's jaw, a crack sounding from the hit. Aiden spat blood onto Tate's shirt, pushing him off onto his back. Aiden stood and kicked Tate in the chin, his front teeth cutting into his bottom lip. Aiden chuckled and looked back to Clara who watched wide-eyed. Tate grabbed his leg dragging him to the ground and catching his collar to slam his head into the dirt over and over again. Clara caught her breath and ran to them.

"Stop!" She screamed at them both. Tate dropped Aiden and got to his feet. Aiden chuckled deeply with blood spilling from his lips.

"I'd love to make a compromise, which one do you prefer? Clara or Violet?" Aiden smirked. Tate drew back his foot and swiftly kicked Aiden in the temple. Clara looked down at Aiden as he laid there seemingly out cold.

She looked at Tate who was wiping the blood from his mouth before she rushed into the house. Tate followed her closely. Clara kept walking until Tate stopped her at the top of the stairs.

"Clara, would you talk to me?" He asked looking at her with weariness.

"I get it Tate, you're still in love with Violet. But, I-" She stopped herself turning to go into her room. Tate placed his hand on the door as she began to close it.

"Clara, please." Tate seemed desperate and Clara would be glad to get it all off her chest, so she took a deep breath.

"I want to stay in this fucked up house because of you, Tate. I care about you, a lot." She rushed. Tate stopped in his tracks looking dumbfounded. Clara slammed her door feeling the overwhelming sense of pain and humiliation. She was desperately in love with Tate and she couldn't admit it to herself, because she knew that he still felt that way about Violet.


	11. Anger

Clara fell flat on her bed and looked up at the ceiling, she couldn't believe the day she was having. Her dead ex-boyfriend was haunting her in the literal sense of the meaning. The boy she was falling in love with who was also quite dead was still in love with someone else and if matters couldn't get any worse they were all stuck in the same house.

Then it occurred to Clara, that she wasn't stuck in the house. She could leave whenever she wanted, and that second was a good a time as any. Clara grabbed her bag off of her dresser stuffing the small leather-bound book into it and hung it on her shoulder as she went out of her room.

Clara had no idea where the hospital was, so she instead went to the library which seemed far better to her than being in a place she only associated near death experiences and pain with.

* * *

><p>She went to the second floor and found a table to sit at. The whole place was nearly empty and Clara really found that convenient. She took out the book and flipped it open to a blank page, and as she had done so many times before she began to jot down the happenings in her life in a sort of dreamy and poetic way. It was like keeping up a journal but without being completely honest and unbearably whinny.<p>

"Awakenings never seemed so beautiful until him, his face, his voice, utter perfection." A voice that Clara had never heard before spoke somewhere behind her. She felt hot blood rush to her face when she heard the words she had written being repeated. She slammed the book closed and turned to her company.

The girl was three inches shorter than Clara, her small heart shaped face was framed with short straight black hair. The girls eyes were covered in black eye-shadow and her lips were colored a dark purple. A smile stretched slowly across her face.

"You're a pretty good writer if I do say so myself." The girl said as Clara looked up at her with slight anger. "Could I sit?" She asked pulling out the chair across from Clara.

"Sure." Clara muttered.

"I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that, it's just that I never seem to see anyone my age in the library." She smirked. Clara shrugged.

"It's fine, no harm done." Clara forced a friendly smile to her face.

"I'm Kyra by the way." She said with a halfhearted smile.

"I'm Clara."

"I know, I live a few houses down from you actually, my mom knows your mom." Kyra said shrugging. She bit her lip for a second while Clara placed her book into her bag.

"It must be so awesome to live in the legendary murder house." Kyra blurted with an expectant smile. Clara raised her brows at the energetic girl before her.

"The what house?" Clara asked.

"You don't know?" Kyra asked with surprise.

"I just moved here from Georgia." Clara said.

"Oh, I never would've guessed, you don't really have an accent. But, I thought you'd know, I mean your ex-boyfriend kind of added to the ranks." Kyra said, she obviously didn't worry about hitting any sore spots.

"No, I have no clue what you're talking about." Clara said.

"Your house is fucking famous for all the deaths that happened in it." Kyra said giving a bright smile to Clara from across the table. Clara's stomach fell to her feet.

"How many deaths?" She asked quietly. Kyra stopped for a second counting it up in her head.

"Seventeen, I think, those are only the reported deaths including Aiden Hale. Some say there might be more." Kyra was hissing to Clara as if it were a huge secret.

Clara felt literally sick to her stomach at the thought of that many ghosts being in her house. Her thoughts were replaying that night in the basement, the whispers, the coldness. She shivered as her memories were far to loud for her in that moment.

"The family before the last before you guys moved in all died in that house. It was a mom and dad, and a girl our age." Kyra said nodding.

Clara grabbed her bag and stood quickly. She didn't want to be rude, but she couldn't take anymore horror stories, since she was the one living the story.

"I have to go, I'm going to be late for a thing, but it was cool to meet you." Clara said starting towards the stairs. Kyra jumped out of her seat.

"Clara, do you think that I could come by and see inside the house?" Kyra asked with a hopeful smirk. Clara stopped and nodded.

"Sure, that would be cool." Clara rushed before sprinting down the stairs.

"Tomorrow then!" She heard Kyra yell from the top of the stairs just before the librarian shot her a dirty look.

* * *

><p>When Clara got home she found herself alone, which was completely surprising. She walked slowly up to her room feeling unevenly out of place in this house. She had no other reaction but fear to the new findings about this place.<p>

As she reached her door her phone went off. She fumbled for the phone in her jean pocket.

"Hello?"

"Clara, your mom is having complications, she'll have to have a cesarean, she told me to check on you though." Matthew's tone indicated that he was having a rather rough time.

"Oh, dad I'm fine, really. Is mom going to be okay?" Clara was genuinely worried and it showed tremendously in her voice.

"Yes, she'll be okay it'll just take a bit longer, I love you Clara." Matthew muttered. Clara wanted to return the three words but her phone was being jerked from her fingers. She looked up to see Aiden looking amused.

"Clara, you were angry." He said with the brightest smile she'd seen him wear as he pressed the screen to end the call. Clara felt the fear she held in the pit of her gut for him diminish in mere seconds of being aware that she could leave this house and he couldn't. So, Clara walked past him flashing a skeptical look his way.

"About Tate beating me to death." Aiden pointed out with a confused air. Clara could've almost laughed.

"You can't kill something that's already dead, Hale." Clara's smug smile reached Aiden with snap. He smiled back and for a second it was like before, almost like they were still together.

"Tate has killed me three times actually, earlier was the third and you of all people were one to witness. But before I went out, I saw you, and that look. I remember that look, it's anger, something you've never really showed before." Aiden stopped rambling to sit on the window seal.

"That's why it took me a second to get it. But, when I did I realized you still have feelings for me." Aiden smirked snidely for all of a millisecond before his expression became eerily serious. Clara felt a lump build in the back of her throat at the mere suggestion of such a thing.

Before Clara could deny the ludicrous allegations she felt Aiden's cold hand against her right cheek. She backed away quickly forgetting her confidence altogether. Aiden shook his head looking out of place with a deep frown.

"I never wanted to hurt you Clara." He said quietly before turning to leave her. When the door closed Clara felt the silence fall in on her. It was heavy and backbreaking in a way that made Clara come to her senses.


	12. Three's A Crowd

The moon was showing largely in the vast night sky as Clara sat in the gazebo watching the stars twinkle in a way that made her feel so small and so insignificant. When Tate made his way to Clara's side she didn't turn her eyes to meet his, she decided that she needed to be levelheaded in that moment.

"Are you in love with me?" The question made Clara stop in a mere second, not to move or even to breathe. She thought for a long minute putting her words together very carefully.

"I'm not sure if it is love." Clara's words failed to submit the way she had hoped. Tate looked up at the same stars Clara had her eyes glued to.

"I don't want to hurt you." Tate murmured in a way that made a shiver rip up Clara's spine. Her glassy eyes moved from the stars down, she instead looked at her fingers that were clutching at her shirt with nervousness.

"I'm not sure if you can." Clara whispered with a sarcastic smile. Tate grabbed Clara's hand. She closed her eyes trying to keep herself calm.

"I could and I need you to understand that." Clara didn't hear him, she only felt his soft warm touch.

Clara's soft pale face looked serene in the moonlight as she sat there with her eyes closed. Tate let go of her hand and placed his hands on either side of her face. A small smile flashed across his lips as he inched closer to her. Clara could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips. She kissed him and he kissed her.

Clara brought her hands around his neck and pulled him into her grasp even further while Tate's hands clutched at her soft hair. When they both were to overwhelmed to even breathe they stopped, it was a cold screeching stop that left them both rocking on the edge of impulse.

Clara had felt something like this before, it was explosive. A feeling of being over herself with love welling from within her core. A feeling that if she didn't contain she'd surely break the foundation that held her together. She had felt it for Aiden, and it drove them into the ground. That was what frightened Clara the most.

* * *

><p>Clara found Tate's free hand and held it tightly. It was nearly morning and they both were still in the gazebo. Tate was sitting while Clara was propped against him, her face against his chest and his right arm wrapped around her.<p>

Clara felt so safe and secure. Tate was her savior and she loved him for it.

When Clara heard the voice of the girl she had met in the prior day she wanted to stay hidden, but what would keep her from walking around the back? Clara got to her feet abruptly making Tate give her a look of a question.

"Her name is Kyra, and she is kind of…" Clara couldn't find the right words to use as she walked towards the kitchen door.

"Clara are you here?" Kyra sounded as if she were simply screaming into the front door. Clara rushed to the door turning to give a warning look to someone who was not there, and that really took the hop out of Clara's step. She opened the door and gave Kyra the best fake smile she could muster.

"I was about to assume you were dead." Kyra smirked placing a foot slowly onto the wooden floor of the foyer. "Oh, my god, this house is to die for." Kyra breathed with overexcitement. Clara was so close to being fed up with all the death puns, but she kept her fake smile plastered on.

Clara showed Kyra around the house. Kyra awed at every room, Clara just stared ahead waiting for the visit to end so she could see Tate again.

"Can I see your room?" Kyra asked, Clara was tempted to decline, but she knew her manners well enough so she simply nodded and trotted swiftly up the stairs. When she reached her door she opened it slowly making sure she had no unexpected visitors waiting on her inside.

"This is it, the room he died in." Kyra awed at the room as she walked slowly around it. She stopped at the center of the floor and flicked her blue-green eyes to Clara's confused face.

"Who?" Clara asked.

"Tate Langdon." Kyra announced. She looked fairly proud that she knew about him. "Believe it or not, his mom Constance lives next-door to you." Kyra nodded folding her arms across her chest looking at the walls with joy.

Clara rose a brow at Kyra. She had no clue that Constance was Tate's mother, maybe because she didn't even know what Tate's last name was, she realized that she didn't know important things about him. Clara decided that she'd ask someone who obviously knew more about him than she did.

"What was he like?" Clara asked.

"The kids that knew him said that he was quiet, nice, and that he read a lot, about birds." Kyra sputtered the footnotes from the papers that were archived in the library.

"How did he die?" Clara asked quietly. Kyra threw Clara a look of excitement.

"Okay so, one day he went fucking berserk and set his mom's boyfriend on fire, I'm not shitting you." Kyra said matter-of-factly. Clara looked on wide-eyed as Kyra went on.

"After that he went to school and killed fifteen kids…fifteen…fucking…kids. Took em out one by one, after he was done with his spree he came here. He waited in this very room for a swat team to bust in, and when they did he pulled a gun on them. A fucking swat team, dude had to have been fucking nuts." As Kyra finished her attention hogging story she glanced over at Clara.

Clara was out of breath and felt a huge gash in her chest, it wasn't there as she clutched at the front of her shirt, but she felt it all the same. Kyra gasped.

"Are you alright?" She asked with an urgent breath.

"No, I'm- no." Clara stuttered trying to catch her running breath. She couldn't believe what she had heard. Tate was just like Aiden, in every way possible. Clara wanted to gag, but instead she simply clenched her fists letting her fingernails cut into her palm.

"I just need to lay down." Clara whispered with strain. Kyra nodded looking down at the slumped over girl once more for any signs of bleeding or anything really that could've triggered such an reaction.

"Okay, I'll just, uh go then." Kyra said making a beeline for the door.

There were long strenuous minutes before Clara could feel her body ease again. The pain in her chest did not cease and her head spun with an incomparable speed. She knew that Tate was evil now, it hurt her, but that didn't change her feelings about him.

"Violet told me." Aiden was leaning against the wall next to her dresser. "How he died, and what he did to her." Aiden's tone was somewhat a slow burn to Clara's invisible gash. After a long silence Aiden crossed the room. Clara's eyes snapped up to glare at him.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Clara growled. Aiden pushed a halfhearted smile to his face. He stopped where he was and looked down at the slumped girl with tears in her eyes that once was so lively and humorous, that seemed like a lifetime ago to Clara and Aiden both.

"When I died I had a few moments of peace, it seemed like heaven from having my throat ripped open and choking on my own blood, but the peace was defined, it changed me." Aiden backed up to the wall he stood against before. Clara looked up to his striking grey irises, she couldn't believe the steady tone he was using.

"When I met you I felt that peace from the world, the harsh voices and images, there was you my angel, my Clara." Clara bit back the urge to smile, she knew what he was doing, he was trying to twist the knife, that was all.

"But, you've changed as well. You've become something darker, I know you've noticed it. It must scare you." Aiden's caring tone made Clara flinch.

"Shut up! You don't know anything about me!" Clara screamed. Tate came quickly into the room rushing to Clara without even looking Aiden's way. This only made Clara even angrier, she didn't want to look at Tate or Aiden, they were the same, toxic, and dangerous. Clara stood up and moved from Tate's touch.

"Leave." Clara whispered to both of them. Aiden turned pushing his hands into his pockets and walked out of the door. Tate looked at Clara with confusion. "Leave." She repeated with a silent whimper. Tate turned and walked out of the door closing it behind himself.

Tate's face was blank as he looked back at the door that Clara had slammed behind him. There was so many questions on the edge of his tongue, but the anger and hate for Aiden caught up to him as he heard his voice.

"Some girl told her everything." Aiden shrugged. He was speaking to Violet who was looking mundane at the foot of the stairs. She knew Tate was standing at the top but she refused to turn her eyes onto him, she hated him. The bitter taste still on her lips from their farewell kiss that she had forced to save someone from Tate's blood covered hands.

"Good." Violet muttered crossing her arms and turning to walk away. Aiden looked up at Tate for a short second before he shrugged arrogantly and followed Violet. "This house is crowded enough already." She said as she walked away.


	13. Forgiveness

Two weeks had passed slowly for Clara. Annie and Matthew returned with the two twin boys, Eli and Ezra were their names. Clara had held them all of three times in the fourteen days they were home. She spent most of her time in her room writing.

She hadn't seen any sign of Tate or Aiden, but every night she would awake to the same cold brush of skin against her cheek. Clara's sessions with Ben had become almost normal, she talked about her dreams and worries and feelings, and hardly concealed anything from him. As the world seemed to settle around her, she was so unaware of the horror awaiting her.

It was a normal day, Clara awoke at four in the morning to the shock of chilled skin against her own. She gasped and looked around her room for any sign of visitors, when she realized nothing was there she lay back down letting sleep take her for a few more hours. She dreamt of darkness washed in bright colors for only seconds at a time, each time a color would show, she would see their faces, Tate's solemn expression, and Aiden's smug smirk.

The house was silent as Clara walked through the hallway where her parents room was opposite of the twin's room. Clara's eyes stayed on the floor as she strode slowly through the dark hallway. As she came upon the twin's room she heard it. A low hiss of a whisper, angry and thrumming just behind the door. Clara stepped near the closed door and pressed her ear against it, there were no distinct words just hissing and growling. Clara's eyes grew wide as she listened and as the sound became louder it came to an abrupt stop when a loud cry came from the room. Clara swung the door open and found no one inside, only her baby brothers. Eli was the one crying, and soon Ezra joined in. Clara called for her mother and when Annie came to the infant's aid she left without a word.

Clara sat in the gazebo and watched the house with distant thoughts, the sun hung high above her and the gazebo threw long slants of shadows across her white face. She had heard the sounds before, in the basement when Tate had left her side. Then she chided herself, did she really have to dredge it up, the strong feelings for him that she couldn't shake.

"Hearing things again Clara?" Aiden smiled from the seat across from her. Clara winced at his abrupt appearance, but she chose to ignore him, perhaps he'd evaporate if she'd only act if he was as dead as he really was. "Come on, I've been patient, I've let you sulk for two whole weeks in peace, the least you could do is acknowledge my existence." Aiden placed a cold finger on Clara's wrist and she flinched away from his touch.

"You don't exist." Clara murmured keeping her eyes on the house. Aiden felt a burst of rage, he wouldn't be ignored, he stood and blocked Clara's view of the house giving her a trying smile.

"Did your therapist help you come to that conclusion, because that is tragically ironic." Aiden sighed as he moved back out of sight. Clara's attention had been absorbed completely by Aiden's few words.

"What are you talking about?" Clara asked. She had moved to face him, Aiden looked disturbingly like Tate in the shadows of the gazebo.

"Did you know that Ben lived in this house before you moved here?" Aiden asked slowly, he enjoyed the sheer shock that ran across Clara's smooth features. "Did you know that he committed suicide? Of course not, so sad, Tate kept you in the dark about a lot of things, though this was to benefit himself more than anyone else." Aiden rose from his seat and placed a soft kiss to Clara's forehead. "Just wait until you hear the reason why Ben killed himself." Aiden murmured to softly for Clara to hear as he walked away.

Tate had watched her from afar, every night he sat in the chair by her window just to watch her sleep. He felt like he had been drained of everything when she turned him away. Tate knew that Aiden was always close, he knew that Aiden was waiting for something and he knew that whatever it was it wouldn't be good for Clara.

As Tate walked through the hall in front of Clara's room he could feel her close by, something inside of him went off like a flare when he saw her turn the corner. Her face was drained of blood, she seemed so depressed and confused, Tate again lost his nerve to approach her. He faded away into the background as she closed the door to her room.

There was a defined similarity when it came to him and Clara. Tate had wanted to stop his infatuation with Violet because of what he had done, it was something he couldn't control. He couldn't help but to think that was how Clara felt toward him.

"Stalking your prey?" Aiden leaned against the far wall. He flashed an arrogant smirk before he moved a little closer to Tate. "I think I know Clara better than anyone." Aiden said and bit the inside of his lip for a moment with a reminiscent smile. "I might know her better than she knows herself, and one of the things I know is that she will forgive your faults. She'll convince herself somehow that your past is just that, nothing more." Aiden's tone was low and sincere.

"Why are you telling me this?" Tate asked, looking his way for the first time since Aiden had spoken. Aiden chuckled and leaned against the wall once more.

"Well, she'll forgive you and then you'll betray her, just like dear little Violet." Aiden smiled again, this time with truthful glee. Tate turned to him with a hateful glare. "From all that I've heard, just like it's her nature to forgive, it's yours to hurt the person closest to you, which is another thing you and I have in common." Before Tate could react Aiden was gone. Tate looked back at Clara's closed door with a deep frown, no matter how awful the words were, Tate knew he didn't want to hear it because it was the truth.

Clara waited until nightfall and when Ben didn't show she made her way downstairs. Her father was sitting in his office looking at the blank computer screen with a stern expression. Clara knew the look well, it was the one he had when something awful happened. The same dreadful look he held when Clara awoke in the hospital.

"Hey dad." Clara whispered as she made her way into the room. Matthew clenched his jaw and readied himself for the reveal, it had been nearly an hour after Moira had relayed the awful news. He had no clue how his daughter would take it and he was afraid that she'd spiral out of control, just when she was doing so well.

"Honey, I'm sorry but Ben is dead, he was in an accident." Clara was taken off guard and she knew all to well what had really become of Ben Harmon. She sat down in the chair and chewed on her lip for a long while. Her father remained silent and she only went through everything in her head. She had to seem not to know anything more than what she was told. She decided that she could leave well enough alone about Ben, but she would have to keep on with her façade if she were to be relieved of any other kind of therapy.

"Do you think we could move back home?" Clara asked abruptly. Matt sighed and removed his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose. Before he could reject her she stood and left the room. Clara knew she'd be stuck in this house until the twins were at least five. The only thing she could hope to do was make the best of trying to avoid all of the weird shit this house had to offer, including her murderous ex-boyfriend and Tate.

As Clara reached the stairs she heard someone crying, the distant sound was coming from the top of the stairs where her room was. Clara stood still for a few moments listening to the quiet sobbing. She gathered her courage and climbed the stairs slowly keeping her breathing even and her footing steady. When she finally reached the top she saw the girl hunched over in the corner at the end of the hall, barely concealed by shadows. Her dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders and her arms and legs were bare and as white as snow. Clara didn't say a word she only stepped slowly to the crying girl and as Clara inched only a foot from the girl, she looked up quickly. Clara realized she was looking at her own face, though this one was deathly pale with dark veins protruding, eyes bloodshot and circled with heavy blackness that melted down onto her cheekbones. Clara's breath caught in her throat as she stumbled back from herself. Clara backed to the edge of the stairs and nearly fell before Tate caught her arm.

"What's wrong?" Tate was afraid for her when he saw her horrorstruck expression. Clara threw a shaky hand towards the imposter and made a shrill sound between a scream and a sob. As Tate pulled her into her room she saw the girl wasn't crying anymore but giggling with blackness dripping from her sick smirk. Tate hadn't seen what Clara had, but he knew that it frightened her. Clara slid to the floor and buried her face in her palms, she cried out of fear and frustration.

"Could I really be fucked in the head?" Clara asked in a ragged tone. She felt like she was actually losing her mind, and it scared her more than anything. She watched Tate move towards her slowly and buried her face back into her hands. "Why didn't you tell me about Ben?" Clara asked, her voice muffled by her own flesh. Tate sat down a few feet from her on the floor.

"You haven't spoken to me for two weeks." Tate murmured as he rested his chin on his knees. Clara scoffed and lifted her bloodshot eyes to his.

"That hasn't stopped you from being in my room every night." Clara muttered as she sat back exhaustedly against her bedpost. "Why didn't you just come clean about your past?" Clara asked. Tate moved a bit closer and looked evenly at her, he had to restrain himself from touching her cheek as he had done every night.

"When was I supposed to do that, when we first met, after I killed Aiden, or when we kissed?" Clara knew he had a point, but she still felt jilted. "What did you see out there?" Tate asked, successfully changing the subject. Clara sighed shakily and hugged her knees to her chest.

"It was me, but not me at all. I looked…dead." Clara's words were broken and nearly silent. She didn't want to think about it, but the clear horrible image was burned into her brain.

"It's this house, Clara you're not crazy." Tate sounded as if he were making a promise, and Clara believed him. She reached out for him and instantly he took her shaking body into his arms. As the night dwindled on Clara and Tate stayed together, and Clara slept calmly while Tate watched her still features with a content heart.

Aiden felt his heart being twisted into barbwire as he paced back and forth in front of Clara's door. He clenched his fists with bottled rage and struggled to keep his murderous thoughts at bay. It was a sorely obvious occurrence, Aiden had even gave Tate a heads up about it. Though none of it made it hurt less.

"This is kind of pathetic." Violet muttered from the far wall. She had been standing there for a long while watching the angry guy pace the hallway. Violet knew how much like Tate Aiden really was, except for the fact that they hadn't made the exact mistakes and it wasn't Aiden who ruined Violet's very existence. Aiden was more sarcastic and wry, where Tate was quiet and observant.

"Oh, you really think so miss melancholy? I didn't ask you to follow me." Aiden snapped. Violet rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "You don't care that their together?" Aiden asked stopping in front of her. Violet looked at her feet quickly and Aiden chuckled darkly stepping back to the front of the door. "Of course you don't." He sneered sarcastically. Violet felt her face feel with cold blood, she knew Aiden could see through her, all of her jealousy and hatred. Violet stood up straight and started towards the stairs, Aiden stopped her with a light grip to her wrist.

"I'm not going to stand in front of her door all night." Violet sighed as she turned back to Aiden.

"Fine, let's do something productive." Aiden said as he took her hand in his.


	14. The Plan

As the sun rose Clara stirred in Tate's gentle hold, he smiled and placed a kiss on her cheek. Clara couldn't find a single thing wrong with that moment, even though she tried to. She felt as if she had been on her own for years rather than weeks and was more than relieved to be with Tate.

"Clara." The sudden voice of her father made Clara stiffen. All of her joints went back to ice as she leapt to her feet and opened the door slipping out quickly and shutting it behind her. "We've had this planned, why aren't you dressed?" Clara's dad seemed stressed as he wiped his forehead. He was in a blue button up shirt with a spit up stain on the left shoulder, that made Clara grimace. "Well?" Matthew snapped.

"I'm not going, I'm really not in the mood to go back…there, right now." Clara made an excuse quickly with a melodramatic frown. Matt eyed her suspiciously for a moment before he nodded.

"Your mother is going to be heartbroken." Matt said before he kissed her forehead in the same place Aiden had the night before. When he went down the stairs Clara went back into her room to see Tate standing over the dresser looking at her jewelry box. It was filled with everything but jewelry, there were pictures, keepsakes, dried flowers, sea shells and other peculiar things.

"What is this?" Tate raised the small box with the silver rose at the corner of it.

"It's something Aiden gave to me." Clara whispered. She stood by the door and watched Tate with a small smile.

"He drew this?" Tate held up the darkly beautiful drawing of Clara, she nodded slowly. "Has he showed up lately?" Tate asked Clara with a knowing glance.

"He's the one that told me about Ben." Clara sighed as she sat on the bed. "I don't care about any of it though, for my sanity I want to start fresh. You're Tate, and I'm Clara, and that's all there is." What Clara had said made Tate smile brightly.

Hours had passed since her parents left and Clara and Tate lay on Clara's bed in the late afternoon, the room was darkened except for the small slants of light that came from the sides of the curtains.

"Tell me about yourself before…you know." Clara spoke softly as she raised her hand to play with the slants of light that thousands of tiny dust particles danced inside of. Tate sighed silently and raised his hand next to hers.

"I had a brother and a sister, Addie and Beau. Beau died a while before me, he's still here, Addie died somewhere else. My mom is Constance, she was for the most part a shitty mom…" He looked at the side of Clara's face and sighed unevenly. "I didn't have the best life." He muttered staring at the patterns of shadows forming from their intertwined fingers. "What about you?" He asked suddenly tuning in with curiosity. Tate had never pressed any further from her most horrific memory of being nearly murdered by Aiden. Clara realized she hadn't really told Tate a lot about herself.

"I was the only child, so I didn't realize how weird I was until I started school, and I fucking hated school. What made it all worse was that I skipped grades until I refused to go anymore, then dad put me in a really uptight private school. That was where I met Aiden, he had a full scholarship because he was a genius, but the only downside to that was that he was insane." Clara found herself smiling about the moment she had first laid eyes on Aiden, and she instantly frowned.

"What about when you were a kid?" Tate asked, hoping to change the subject.

"I used to make these little forts in the woods when I was a kid, and I would sit inside them all day just watching the world around me. I felt safe inside of them…it's stupid." Clara whispered looking at the dying light from the window.

"No it's not, and you're not weird." Tate said with a small smile. Clara grinned and rested her chin on his shoulder. "You're interesting." He added resting his head on hers.

* * *

><p>Aiden threw the knife at the wall and sighed deeply when it hit the floor with a quiet thump. Aiden had stayed in the basement when all of the other dead people were elsewhere. When the basement was full he would skulk around Clara's room, and sometimes he'd sit in the bathroom while she showered just to listen to her sing, the way he used to when they were together.<p>

"Waiting on your girlfriend?" The lovesick redhead named Hayden glared at Aiden from the rocking chair by the corner. Aiden hadn't exactly enjoyed her attitude, especially when she was snappy or clever with him. Aiden had told her to find some self-confidence and fuckoff and that had sent the message just fine, but hadn't kept her from annoying the fuck out of him any chance she got.

"Clara would never come down here, she's terrified of it." Aiden muttered. Hayden stopped rocking and rolled her eyes dramatically.

"I was talking about Violet." She scoffed. Aiden narrowed his eyes at the woman before he shook his head and went up the stairs, not even trying to explain what Violet was to him. He also knew he shouldn't because word tended to spread quickly through the house full of dead people.

Aiden sat on the couch and sighed hard once again. He loved that couch, he and Clara had slept on it once and he awoke with a stiff neck and Clara had fallen onto the floor in the night. A smile spread across his soft face for the first time in that whole day. Memories of Clara, good or bad always seemed to make him smile.

"Why are you so happy?" Violet's dull voice broke through the sonic silence of the dark living room. Aiden sprang from the couch and examined her with narrowed scrutinizing eyes.

"Where have you been all day?" He asked quickly.

"With my mom." She muttered turning away from his snakelike gaze to fall into an overstuffed armchair.

"Having happy mother daughter talks and what have you?" Aiden chided. "So, the plan is going to happen tonight, it has to while mommy and daddy are away. Do I have to go over it again?" Aiden asked as he crossed the room to grab a small ceramic picture frame, it framed a photo of a seven year old Clara sitting on a bench in front of the park in their hometown. Her small face lit up with a childish grin. He turned back to Violet to see her negative headshake, then he turned back and looked at the photo in his hands. "Excellent." He muttered before he threw it on the floor with an exceptional force, the white ceramic shattered on the dark wood.

"Did you hear that?" Clara asked Tate as she rose from the floor where they had been sitting. There was something shattering downstairs, and Clara was nearly positive it was Aiden. Tate took her hand and they walked down the stairs together. They stopped at the living room where Aiden was standing by the window the floor around his feet covered in shattered pieces of picture frames and small décor Clara's mother had enjoyed collecting. "What the fuck Aiden?" Clara smoldered with rage at Tate's side, which Aiden found amusing.

"You are so adorable when you're angry." Aiden said with a light chuckle as he stepped forward. His shoes crunching on the broken ceramic with every step. When he was a few feet away he pulled out the knife that Tate had used to kill him. Tate was the first to react, he ran to Aiden aiming to knock him back, but Aiden sunk the blade into Tate's sternum with a quick thrust. Tate fell to the floor writhing for only a moment before he went still. Clara gasped and lingered in the doorway of the living room looking teary eyed and stunned at the blood pooling under Tate's lifeless body. Aiden stepped forward ripping the knife from Tate's flesh, he turned to Clara and shot her a perfect smile. Clara turned on her heel and ran up the stairs. She went into her room and locked the door, she fell to the floor and slid back to her bed where she broke down with sobs.

Tate would recover, she knew that, but while he was out he couldn't save her. Clara was the one person in this house that was at a true risk of losing her life, and that frightened her to her very marrow. After a few minutes passed Clara looked up at the door and then she buried her face in her arms, she only had to hold out for Tate to come and save her.

"He's not coming back anytime soon, so I guess we have some time to talk." Aiden's voice came from only a few feet behind her, when she turned he was sitting idly by in her armchair, Tate's blood still staining his hands and his face perfectly calm. "Remember when we had sex for the first time?" Aiden questioned, and just the suggestion brought flashes of memory through Clara's frightened mind and forced guilt and chagrin to build in her throat. "You told me that you didn't want to wait, you said that you loved me, and you would forever." Aiden slid the knife over his palm and eyed Clara for a while. "Now that was some pretty heavy stuff Gray, not just your average pillow talk." Aiden chuckled and raised a brow never losing his charismatic smile. A few silent minutes passed in the room that was beginning to smell of blood. "Did you mean it, or did you lie?" He asked lowly, suddenly losing his carefree smile and gaining a fearsome glare. Clara felt sick as she slid back from Aiden. "Answer me." Aiden growled raising the knife.

"That was before you slit my throat you psychotic fuck!" Clara yelled from only three feet across the room. Aiden sighed and ran his shaking fingers through his hair, then he jolted from his seat and grabbed Clara by her shirt holding her only inches from his face, his lips only inches from hers.

"Do you love him?" He asked with such a meek tone that Clara lost the crippling fright. She stared him down with fire blazing in her eyes.

"Yes." The one word that came from her lovely mouth made Aiden stumble back as if he'd been filled with a round of buckshot. He dropped the knife onto the floor at Clara's feet. Clara grabbed the knife and stumbled toward Aiden with a fair uneasiness. Aiden watched her all the while without a stitch of fear or worry.

"What are you going to do with that, Clara?" He asked, his voice weak and torn. "Are you going to stab me?" His face turned dark with seriousness. Clara hesitated there in the dimness of the room, Aiden stepped forward and placed his cold fingers over her wrist and placed the point of the blade at his midsection. "Do it." He implored as tears trickled down Clara's face.

"No." Clara cried softly loosening her grip on the knife. She couldn't bring herself to do to him what he had done to her.

"I slit your throat Clara, and you know what? I came up here to do it again. The fear in your eyes, the panic that makes you shake violently in your sleep, I caused that. Kill me Clara, see how it feels to be the villain for a change." Aiden's whispers sounded like earthshattering reverberations to Clara. When she didn't move Aiden grabbed her wrist again, his fingers digging painfully into her skin. "Do it Clara!" He snarled.

The room fell silent as Clara plunged the knife into Aiden's chest.


End file.
